


saline solution

by foolishclown



Category: Video Blogging RPF
Genre: Good Jschlatt (Video Blogging RPF), Hurt/Comfort, Implied/Referenced Drug Use, Implied/Referenced Self-Harm, Sad Wilbur Soot, Self-Harm, Wilbur Soot Needs a Hug, also it could be read as romantic but it isn’t inherently, extremely ooc, its just a comfort fic with my comfort characters, no beta we die like men, this is literally just a vent fic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-04
Updated: 2020-12-04
Packaged: 2021-03-09 17:42:25
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,294
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27880209
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/foolishclown/pseuds/foolishclown
Summary: Wilbur stared down at his bloody hands.It was supposed to make him feel better. It used to.So why did he just feel worse?Guilt washed over him.The cuts stung on the various body parts. He used to try to keep them out of sight, but at some point you run out of space. A few littered his forearm, an undesirable place. It was embarrassing, honestly. It made him feel stupid, like this was for attention. That was one of the biggest reasons why he had stopped. He never wanted anyone to think of him like that, to think it was for attention or to get pity.
Relationships: Jschlatt & Wilbur Soot
Comments: 13
Kudos: 266





	saline solution

**Author's Note:**

> tw for slightly graphic self harm description and drug abuse/mention of disordered eating 
> 
> this is absolutely just a comfort fic because i am doing so bad rn and it’s all i can think of to write but i hope u enjoy and if youre have a similar problem right now i hope it brings you some peace :) 
> 
> i’ll probably write different outcomes of different people coming to check on him to be honest because this brought me so much comfort

Wilbur stared down at his bloody hands. 

It was supposed to make him feel better. It used to. 

So why did he just feel worse? 

Guilt washed over him. 

The cuts stung on the various body parts. He used to try to keep them out of sight, but at some point you run out of space. A few littered his forearm, an undesirable place. It was embarrassing, honestly. It made him feel stupid, like this was for attention. That was one of the biggest reasons why he had stopped. He never wanted anyone to think of him like that, to think it was for attention or to get pity. 

He didn’t want pity, didn’t want anyone to ever know. He had traded a much more visible kind of self harm for an easier to hide kind, going from knives to drugs, drugs to bruising, bruising to not eating, not eating to not sleeping. It was a pathetic cycle, and he found himself back at the start. 

It was hopeless. Resistance is futile, as they say. 

Taking a shaky step, he pulled his sweater down his arms, rolling his pants back down. People didn’t tend to stare at your calves, so he felt safe with that spot.   
  


His chest, hips and calves were the worst spots, littered with pale scars from years past. He hated the stares from partners when they were intimate. It was enough to keep him from romance for quite a while. 

Everything in him urged him to give into the cycle. A few pills never hurt anyone, he told himself. 

Of course, ‘a few pills’ turned into a week long binge of anything he could get his shaking hands on. 

Ignoring logic, he opened the small drawer where he kept his, uh, more secret belongings. A small mint tin, various bottles of liquor, untouched for months. 

He had been doing better, he really had. He poured the white pills into his hand, staring down as sticky blood ran down his arm. It would be fine. This would make it better. 

Swallowing his guilt, he started to bring the pills up to his mouth, now fully committed. 

His bedroom door opened. Hastily dropping the pills, he slammed the drawer shut,putting on his best innocent face. 

Schlatt stood there, looking unamused. “You just piss yourself or something?” 

“Oh. Schlatt. No, I... why are you here?” 

“Came to see you, weirdo. Literally none of us had heard from you in days, kinda thought you had died. Someone had to find your corpse before it started smelling, so I volunteered.” 

Wilbur knew that was supposed to be funny, but the emptiness in his chest just grew. The world seemed grey. 

“Oh. Well, yeah. I’m fine. Sorry about that.” 

Schlatt’s smile vanished as it dawned on him that something was seriously wrong with how Wilbur was acting. He didn’t want to overstep his boundaries, but there was something off. 

“You... okay there, Wil?” Schlatt’s eyes glanced around the dirty room, clothes strewn about and empty glasses littering the surfaces. He switched his focus back to Wilbur, trying to read his body language. He wore his yellow sweater, nothing unusual there. Glancing down, his eyes dropped to his hands.

His heart skipped a beat. Was that... blood on Wilbur’s hands? 

“Yeah, Schlatt. I’m good. I appreciate you checking on me.” The words were empty, his eyes staring blankly ahead. 

“Wilbur?” 

“Yeah?” 

“Why are you bleeding?” 

Fight or flight kicked in, his blood suddenly running cold. Shit. Shit. Shit. He didn’t want this. He couldn’t let this happen. Schlatt would think he was pathetic. 

  
His body chose a third option. He froze in place. 

“Wilbur?” Schlatt removed his hand from the door knob, taking a step closer. No response. 

“Answer me. Why is there blood on you?” 

Wilbur opened his mouth to respond, but no sound came out. He wanted to jump out the window, run away and never look back. A hand suddenly grabbed his sleeve, yanking it up. Wilbur gasped at the fabric rubbing against the open cuts, jumping and trying to step backwards. But it was too late. Schlatt had already seen. 

Schlatt couldn’t believe it. He had never even noticed Wilbur seeming vaguely off until now. Why would he do this? Was this _normal_ for him? 

“Wilbur, what the fuck? Why would you do this to yourself?” His tone was harsher than he intended, hand gripping the sweater sleeve. 

“Schlatt- I- I don’t, I didn’t, I-“ His face flushed, his voice shook. He was so beyond embarrassed. This was humiliating. He wished he had swallowed the pills. 

“How long have you been doing this? Does Nikki know? Does Tommy?” 

Wilbur just stared ahead, eyes wide. “No one does. Schlatt, please,” he lowered his voice to a whisper, “please don’t tell anyone.” 

Schlatt just stared incredulously back. Wilbur couldn’t possibly be serious. How was he supposed to ignore this? Oh, I just found out my close friend cuts himself? No biggie, have a good day, it’ll be my little secret! 

“You... this isn’t okay, Wil. This is serious. I don’t know why the _fuck_ you do this, but you’re gonna seriously injure yourself. I can’t just ignore this shit.” 

Wilbur just wanted this to end. He wanted to crawl back into bed and never leave. This only furthered his self hatred, guilt rising in his throat, stomach turning. 

“It’s not bad. It isn’t, I swear. I just- I just don’t feel good, okay? It- It doesn’t matter. It’s not your problem.” 

Schlatt clenched his teeth. He paused for a moment, thoughts racing. He had no experience here, he had only ever seen shit like this in movies. 

“Where else, Wilbur? Show me.” 

Wilbur felt his heart drop. Show him? 

“Wh... why?” 

“Just do it.” 

The tension between them was thick enough to cut. Wilbur took a step towards the bed, sitting down slowly. Schlatt released his sweater sleeve, standing in front of the taller man. 

His resolve melted. It was futile to fight back. He didn’t care anymore. 

Rolling his jeans up, he just stared down, realizing more than one of the cuts must have needed stitches. Shit, he didn’t think it was that bad, but the blood was soaked through the dark jeans. 

Schlatt felt his heart skip a beat. He didn’t know what he expected, but it wasn’t that. “Wilbur, jesus _christ_.” 

Wilbur wouldn’t meet his eyes. He stared forward, defeated. 

Schlatt took painfully deep breaths. He took a cautious seat beside Wilbur. 

He was... never a touchy person. In fact, he actively avoided it, it made him feel weird and grossly vulnerable. But this wasn’t a situation he had ever expected to be in. 

Arms wrapped around Wilbur, a comforting embrace. Tears threatened to spill out of his unfocused eyes. Schlatt placed his head into the crook of his neck, one hand sliding to his hair to gently run his fingers through tangled and neglected curls. 

Wilbur melted into him, shock wearing off as he slowly wrapped his arms around Schlatt. All of the emotion he had built up tumbled out of him, tears freely falling as he started to shake with sobs, breath uneven and fast. 

Schlatt felt Wilbur practically deadweight in his arms, holding onto him like he was the only thing keeping him from floating away. 

It wasn’t over.

Schlatt had to tell someone, had to make sure Wilbur wouldn’t be left alone. But... for now, he relaxed into the embrace. If he pretended he couldn’t feel the blood soaking into his own back, it was almost a normal situation. He was just comforting a friend. 

They were okay. 

In that moment, they were okay. Wilbur was safe. 

Schlatt would never let him go through that alone again. 

**Author's Note:**

> thank u for reading and im sorry if it’s all over the place i am just emotional :’)


End file.
